 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
THOMAS OF TIGRE
Where in all thine isles art thou?
Sailing on Fonseca blue?
Nearing Amapala now?
King of Tigre, where art thou?
Saber hilt, or olive bough?
Crown of dust, or laurel green?
Roving love, or marriage vow?
King and comrade, where art thou?
Pitching tent in Pimo now?
Underneath magnolia trees?
Thatch of palm, or cedar bough?
Soldier singer, where art thou?
Saddle bow, or birchen prow?
Round the Isles of Amazon?
Pampas, plain, or mountain brow?
Prince of rovers, where art thou?
This was a brave old boyhood friend in the Mount Shasta Days. You will find him there as the Prince in my “Life Among the Modocs,” “Unwritten History, Paquita,” “My Life Among the Indians,” “My Own Story,” or whatever other name enterprising or piratical publishers, Europe or America, may have chosen to give the one prose book Mulford and I put out in London during the Modoc war. This man, Prince Thomas, now of Leon, Nicaragua, was a great favorite and my best friend, in one sense for years in Europe. He had passed the most adventurous life conceivable, at one time having been king of an island. He gloried in the story of his wild life, spent money like a real prince, and was the envy and admiration of fashionable club men.
“Where in all the world, and when, did he get so much money?” once asked the president of the Savage Club.
“Well, I am not certain whether it was as a pirate of the South Seas or merely as a brigand of Mexico,” I answered.
This answer coming to the ears of Thomas, he so far from being angered was greatly pleased and laughed heartily over. It with some friends at Lord Houghton's table.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |